Скачать или смотреть John Peel's Alternative Sunscreen '99, aka "Class of Glastonbury '99"

John Peel's advice for festival goers. Sorry for the lo-fi audio, was recorded from tape cassette.

If I could offer you only one tip for the next few days, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of suncreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own festival experience. I will dispense this advice now:
Enjoy the comfort of four walls and a roof.
Oh, nevermind... You will not understand the pleasure and comfort of these things until you're wasted.
But trust me, in three days from now, you'll look back at photos of this and realise in a way you can't grasp now, how pleasant running water is, and how filthy you really are.
Don't worry about where your tent is.
Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to pass solids in a portaloo without touching the seat.
The real troubles of the event have to be things that never crossed your worried mind, like how to look cool when you've just had your face painted to resemble a giant panda bear.
Eat one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's Scrumpy.
Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Mosh.
Remember the bands you have seen.
Forget the latrines.
If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Don't waste your money on herbal highs.
Sometimes they're Pro-plus, sometimes Sanatogen.
The price is high, and in the end, you can buy them off the shelf.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know which stage to go to.
The most interesting bands I know didn't know in '85 which stage they would be playing on.
Some of those groups still don't know.
Eat plenty of doughnuts.
Be kind to the hippies. You will miss them when they're gone.
Do not get your lip pierced. It will only make you look ugly.
Enjoy your body. Use it in every way you can.
Don't be afraid of getting yourself tattooed, or what your mum will think of it. It's the greatest argument you will ever have.
Maybe you'll find your tent, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll have a tarot reading, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll learn to juggle flaming batons, maybe you'll join a drumming workshop and keep an entirely separate beat to everyone else.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are all chance. So are everybody else's.
Dance.
Even if you've nowhere to do it but in the comedy tent.
Keep your site-map handy.
Throw away the out-sized festival hats.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise, pop stars will philander.
You too will get cold.
And then you'll fantasise about when you were young.
Festivals were free, pop bands were better, and teenagers respected their guitar solos.
But trust me on the sunscreen.